


The Number Eight

by KaitouKiddo90



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Death the Kid Freak Out, One Shot, Other, The Number 8, unsolicited Phone Calls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 07:12:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaitouKiddo90/pseuds/KaitouKiddo90
Summary: A Markey Reseacher goes about her normal day making phone calls to the residents of Death City. Until one call has a very unexpected result.





	The Number Eight

Joan was bored out of her mind, this had to be the worst job on the planet. Monotonous, boring, thankless. Joan was a market researcher. She called people and walked them through various surveys about this issue or that company. Today she was doing something that was at least slightly interesting. She was calling Meisters.

So far it had gone well. She had a respectable number of completed calls anyway. She dialled the next number and soon a young man picked up.

“Hello, my name is Joan from Death City Research company. Today we would like to invite you to do a short survey with us. Are you a weapon meister.

“Yes.” Came the reply in a soft sophisticated voice.

“Are you currently enrolled at Shibusen?”

“Yes.” 

“I am going to read you a series of statements about Shibusen. Please tell me whether you agree or disagree with these statements on a scale from 1 to 7.” She winced a little as the young man yelled in her ear.

“NO!”

“I am sorry sir?”

“NOT 7… make it 8 please make it 8 and stop with this 7 nonsense.”

“I am sorry sir but could you please give me a number on the scale from 1 to 7?”

“EIGHT! It has to be eight don’t you GET it!?” 

Joan tried several more times to get a number from one to seven until the young man on the other side degenerated into sobs muttering “eight not seven” Over and over.

“Uh thank you for your time sir….” And she hung up the phone… “What the hell was that?”

 

Patty and Liz Thompson returned home from shopping to find their meister Death the Kid curled up in a fetal position in the dark next to the handset of the phone in the middle of one of the worst symmetry fits they had ever seen.

“Kidd we told you to stop talking to the telemarketers.” Liz said as she walked passed him to her room, “You know you should listen to us once in a while.”


End file.
